Read to Me
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: Sebastian is an Indie film maker doing a companion project to the Hysterical Literature series, using men instead of women. Kurt volunteers, which requires him to read from a book with a vibrator inserted in his ass…a vibrator that Sebastian controls. Sebastian S. Kurt H.


**A/N:** _This is a short fic of my own invention based off the project Hysterical Literature. You can look up the videos on YouTube. Rated M for voyeurism, anal masturbation, and consensual forced orgasm.  
_

 _"Hysterical Literature is a video art series by NYC-based photographer and filmmaker Clayton Cubitt. It explores feminism, mind/body dualism, distraction portraiture, and the contrast between culture and sexuality."_

 _(Disclaimer: I do not own Hysterical Literature, nor do I own rights to the book Kurt reads from Patti LuPone: A Memoir.)_

 _***You guys have probably all read this, but I was approached on anon to do a follow up to this where Kurt tortures Sebastian back, and then the inevitable sex that follows. So stay tuned ;)_

Kurt paces the studio, butterflies gathering in his stomach as he mulls over the details of the project he moronically volunteered for. Why did he do this? Why does he let Rachel talk him into shit just because she's too afraid to take risks of her own?

"Think about it, Kurt," Rachel had argued, "it's cutting edge…artistic…people will search for Kurt Hummel, and do you know what they'll see nestled in among a dated _Single Ladies_ video? You reading from the memoir of the legendary Patti LuPone, looking trendy and Indie…"

"Yeah, and having an orgasm!" Kurt had balked, walking away from her since there wasn't enough room to run.

"It's in black and white, Kurt," Rachel had continued. "You know how good you look in black and white."

"Why are you talking me into this?" Kurt had spun on her, still not able to shake the expression of disgust from his face. "Didn't we decide that nudity and selling sex was cheap? Isn't that why you didn't get naked for that disastrous student film?"

"You're not selling anything," she had persisted, following him as he gathered up his school books and headed for the door. "It's all volunteer. And there is no nudity. This could really help your image, you know. Help you expand beyond your boundaries, make people see you as a sexy, desirable, _leading_ man."

This was when Kurt paused, and Rachel knew she had him. The idea of someone other than his ex-boyfriend Blaine seeing him as sexy was one of the biggest thorns in his side. Not being sexy lost him the part of Tony in McKinley High School's performance of West Side Story ( a role he lost, incidentally, to his ex). It burned him up inside then, and he hated to admit it, especially with all the changes he had made since working for Vogue and getting into NYADA, it burned him up still.

Praying on his weakness forced him to backpedal, and agreeing to her asinine idea landed him here, in a dark and chilly room, waiting for someone to tell him what method of sexual torture he would have to endure while reading out loud from _Patti LuPone: A Memoir._

He hears a few sharp knocks on the door and braces himself for whatever pimply, gangly, awkward-looking intern or lackey is going to walk through, so he's completely stunned when the man who enters in anything but gangly or awkward. In fact, the smug faced Adonis who saunters effortlessly into the room is everything Kurt pictures when he hears the words 'Indie film maker' – a man with impeccable fashion taste who tries hard to make himself look brooding and earthy; smoldering green eyes; smooth, tanned skin; and a mouth Kurt is sure has committed over a hundred and one carnal sins. He wears tight, black jeans with a black Henley to match, paired with an ankle length vintage duster and an almost whimsical, shabby chic scarf. If Kurt saw this man on the street, he would say that this outfit doth protest too much, trying way too hard to be perceived as cool, but here in this small studio, about to film such a taboo movie, it all works.

"Hello," the man says, and Kurt gasps when he hears just how perfect a match his voice is to that sinful-looking mouth. "My name is Sebastian Smythe. Thank you for joining me on this project."

"Uh…Kurt," Kurt says, thankfully remembering his name and figuring out how to speak. "Kurt Hummel…and you're welcome, I guess."

Sebastian extends his hand, and Kurt takes it, shaking it once. Sebastian's skin is soft and warm and Kurt doesn't want to let go, but he doesn't feel like making an ass of himself either.

"So, do you know anything about the project?" Sebastian asks, pulling two chairs up to a long table in the center of the room, and motioning for Kurt to sit down in one while he occupies the other.

"A little," Kurt admits, dropping down into the uncomfortable hard-plastic chair. "I know about the videos on YouTube, but I haven't seen them yet." Kurt bites his lip sheepishly, embarrassed to admit that he knows so little about what he's doing here.

"Well, I'm producing a companion project to something another artist here in New York is doing called Hysterical Literature. Clayton Cubitt has a series of videos that explore feminism and mind-body dualism using distraction portraiture as a medium. I'm doing something similar, but with men instead of women, with more of a focus on the distraction."

Kurt's face must look blank or confused, or maybe he looks sick because Sebastian puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently.

"Here's the deal," Sebastian says, his voice soft, almost intimate. "You're going to put in a vibrator, you're going to sit at this table, and you're going to read to me."

Kurt doesn't want Sebastian to stop talking in that magical, soothing voice, but at the mention of a vibrator Kurt turns his head and notices for the first time on the table in front of him a blister package containing a brand-new butt plug vibrator with a remote control attachment and beside it an almost ridiculously large bottle of anal lube.

Kurt picks up the vibrator and looks it over, all too aware of Sebastian's eyes on him, watching him for a reaction.

"Uh…this has an unusually long cord, doesn't it?" Kurt says, flipping it around in his hands and looking the arrowhead-shaped plug over from all angles.

"I have them special made," Sebastian says, his voice lowering again in a way that grabs Kurt's undivided attention. "This way _I_ get to control it…from behind the camera."

Kurt turns to face Sebastian, and his eyes are suddenly a trap that Kurt cannot get away from. For a brief moment, Kurt wonders if Sebastian is flirting with him.

 _Please let him be flirting with me_ , he thinks.

It would make it so much easier to masturbate in front of him if he knew that Sebastian found him even remotely attractive.

* * *

The plug is larger than he's used to, and a little uncomfortable, but none of that impacts him quite so much as when Sebastian saunters up beside him and takes the remote from his hand, knocking him a suggestive wink before he walks away. Kurt swallows hard and looks into the camera, ignoring the slight tug of the cord that threads into his skinny jeans, running down the back and through the crack in his ass. This is his last chance to bolt; to pull the plug, as it were, and head for the hills. But Kurt is tired of running away. He's taking a risk, even if it means embarrassing the ever living shit out of himself.

Kurt smiles, reaching out for all of the confidence contained in even the most insignificant cell of his body.

"Rolling," Sebastian prompts simply, smiling with a single thought in his head.

 _Let the games begin._

"Hello. I'm Kurt Hummel, and today I'll be reading a passage from _Patti LuPone: A Memoir_." Kurt turns the book to the camera so that everyone in YouTube land can see. He opens the book to the very first page and starts to read.

"I've opened _Gypsy_ four times…"

Five words in and Kurt feels the plug spring to life, nothing too sensational, just a low buzz that vibrates through his body, tingling up his spine and spreading out over his limbs, even to the tips of his fingers. With enough concentration it's pretty easy to ignore. Kurt pauses, swallowing as he focuses on the words of his idol printed in typeface on the page in front of him and not the subtle hum of pleasure that starts to coil deep in his stomach. He takes another breath and begins to read.

That small stutter isn't lost to Sebastian. He normally switches on the vibrator before his volunteers start reading, to get them accustomed to the sensation, but he couldn't resist waiting a moment with Kurt. He needed to see the man's reaction. Sebastian has seen a dozen volunteers read. One or two of them had a definite effect on him, but all in all this is just a job, and he can easily suppress any reaction he may have to the men as he watches them break down on camera, falling to pieces as they cum. But Kurt…Sebastian has never met anyone like Kurt. Under any other circumstances, outside of this studio, Sebastian would ask Kurt out for a drink, maybe even to dinner. Sebastian, whose sex life survived on a diet of one-night stands, never dreamed he had a 'type'. Meeting Kurt, talking to him for just five minutes, and Sebastian now knew for sure that he definitely had one.

"Lambs are born in the spring. We performed in the summer. The lamb was, unfortunately, a sheep. The sheep was going crazy…"

Kurt appears a little too composed for Sebastian's taste. As unfair as it sounds even in his own head, he is far too eager to watch Kurt come undone. Sebastian switches the vibrator up a notch.

"I-I was af-fraid the sheep would fall…"

The change comes out of nowhere, and hits Kurt everywhere at once. Strange how the lowest setting was tolerable, but one step up is almost debilitating. Kurt stops and swallows again, his heart racing. The hand that holds the page he's reading shakes. He folds one leg carefully over the other as he tries to continue.

"…into the orchestra pit in his desperate attempt to escape…"

Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself, and Sebastian follows it, watching with wonder at how Kurt pulls himself up straighter, rolling his neck on his shoulders in a casual attempt at dismissing the waves that are now pulsing with vibrant energy, titillating every last nerve ending, but Sebastian knows. He can tell by the way Kurt's legs bounce a little beneath the table, the way he shifts the book restlessly from cradled in both hands to lying flat on the table, and then back in his hands, gripping tightly.

"…th-the frantic sheep w-was caught…mmm… before he crapped on everything…Hmm…Th-they put him in the boys' bathroom offstage right…" Kurt reads on, stopping every now and again to breathe, to hum, sighing to relieve the pressure. He tries not to be distracted, focusing on the page, trying not to let the words blur as images race into his head of the gorgeous man with the remote control climbing underneath the table, taking Kurt's aching cock into his mouth, and swiftly putting him out of his misery. Why did Sebastian have to be gorgeous? Why did he have to have that silky voice and those clear emerald eyes? He could probably handle being forced to cum like this in front of a hag in a pantsuit, or some middle-aged stooped-over man with a pocket protector and wire-rimmed glasses, but this…this is torture. This is a million-and-one secrets he wasn't ready to tell without even going out for coffee first. This is laying his soul bare in front of someone he could legitimately see himself fantasizing about. This is no chance at all of making a better first impression whatsoever.

Kurt wants to call it quits, but he just can't stop. His body won't let him. Everything feels too good, and he knows that if he stands up to leave it will be over anyway. He's so close to cumming that a single shiver, the tiniest breath, will do him in.

He blinks the words back into focus. They are his anchor, and he needs them to keep from meeting the gaze of the handsome director and losing it all completely.

Sebastian finds himself rocking in his chair, subconsciously following Kurt's movements as he fidgets with his own body – the way Kurt shifts in his chair, the way the fingers of one hand have started to thrum against the table top, crawling to the edge and back in an effort to keep Kurt distracted.

Sebastian is breathless, his entire body burning, imagining what it might be like to be locked between Kurt's thighs while he quivers and moans with Sebastian buried deep inside him, what it would look like when Kurt finally came.

Sebastian has to find out.

He switches the vibrator up again to medium-high.

"…the tiled bathroom would increase the volume and reverberate his _bah_ -ah-ah-AH!"

The vibrator shifts up a gear and Kurt's whole body trembles. He cries out suddenly, unable to hold the sound in. It was waiting so long, lodged in his throat, begging to be let go. Kurt throws his head back on his shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut, willing his body to calm down, but he can't. There's no possible way. He looks back down at the book, trying to stop his hands from shaking long enough to find his place. He gives up, laying his arms over the book to keep it from closing and picks up reading anywhere.

"At…at…ah…at poignant moments in the play…"

Sebastian smiles, watching Kurt shiver, knowing that he's doing this to him. He's the one in control, and he decides to play dirty. He's never done this with any other subject, but Kurt's not any other subject.

Kurt is the subject he _wants_.

Sebastian dials down the vibrations for just a second, and then hits it to high.

Kurt feels the vibrations die a little and he relaxes, thankful for the reprieve, sure that Sebastian has enough for his video and that he'll call cut soon.

"…we would hear the plaintive _w_ AIL!"

The pulsations are back again, stronger than before, and all thoughts of reading and _Gypsy_ and Ms. Patti LuPone are gone. The book shoots forward out of Kurt's grasp and he grabs onto the arms of the chair, shoving back with his legs. It's too much, it's just too much, but Kurt has to give in. How can he stop? He sinks down in his chair, pushing the vibrating plug as far in as it will go, trying to search out the spot that needs it most. He's grinding into the chair, heels scraping along the floor, moaning into the air around him. His hands ball into fists and then flex, fingers stretching out indecisively. Sebastian knows what Kurt is contemplating, hedging on a decision, and Sebastian prays he makes the right one.

Kurt isn't quite comfortable with the idea of unzipping his jeans and pulling out his cock, but he's aching where his length pushes against his fly, and in a moment of weakness he comes to a compromise and frantically starts palming himself over the fabric.

Sebastian can't help his moan, or the way he starts to shift in his own seat, trying to find friction enough to relieve the erection that has been growing since Kurt took that first stutter of breath on the very first page.

"Oh, God!" Kurt cries out. "Oh, God! Oh, God!"

Sebastian's hands are shaking now. He's dying to climb over the table and into Kurt's lap, to take what he dreams has to be an insanely perfect cock and stroke it, helping Kurt climax, but he can't. All he can do is toy with the little remote in his hands, so he does, switching it from low to high at odd intervals, watching with rapt fascination as Kurt bucks in his seat, sputtering a combination of nonsense syllables which include "Yes!", "Oh, God!", and "please".

But it's the addition of Sebastian's name that raises things to a whole other level.

"Sebastian!" Kurt cries out. "Sebastian, please!"

Please, what? Please, stop? Please, yes? Please let me cum? Please come over here and fuck me?

Sebastian is good with most of these.

Sebastian watches Kurt writhe and for a moment he is struck with a sharp pang of guilt.

This is a legitimate art project, and Kurt's a volunteer.

But, God, Sebastian wishes this could be so much more.

Sebastian decides to grant Kurt his wish, turning the vibrator on high and watching Kurt cum, lust-blown blue eyes wide, lips wrapped around a silent moan, face flushed in a way that looks like scarlet hand prints dragging down his cheeks. Kurt's hips stutter into the hand that's gripping white-knuckled at the front of his impossibly tight jeans, and Sebastian feels himself cum suddenly at this image of perfect completion.

Kurt's body starts to relax, and the euphoria that erased all of his inhibitions is quickly replaced with an overwhelming tidal wave of humiliation and shame. In essence, he just gave himself away, gave himself to Sebastian. How could he be so foolish! What was he even doing here? Fuck Rachel and her stupid ideas! Fuck the way he's always getting tricked into doing something low and degrading when he should just say no. But regardless, one thing still remains…that orgasm…that mind-wrenching, heart-stopping, body-shattering orgasm…was the most incredible thing he has ever experienced, and Sebastian gave him that.

At least he'll have that to daydream about when he moves to Nassau County and hides under a rock.

Kurt sits up, noticing how the vibrator has stopped, silently thankful. He straightens the table and turns back to the camera. He picks up his book again.

"My name is Kurt Hummel," he says in a voice that still shakes, "and that was a passage from _Patti LuPone: A Memoir_."

Sebastian calms his breathing, reaching out carefully to turn off the camera.

"And cut."

* * *

Sebastian leaves Kurt to remove the vibrator and clean up, needing the excuse to step outside for a breath of fresh air. Kurt cleans the vibrator thoroughly with soap and water, using the menial task to take his mind from recalling that intense moment of rapture, or the way he thought (or most likely imagined) that he heard Sebastian moan from somewhere off-camera.

Sebastian knocks lightly on the door before he enters, and Kurt is pacing the room again, this time eager to put this all behind him before he finds some other way to embarrass himself in front of Sebastian.

"So, I think that's all I need from you, Mr. Hummel," Sebastian says. Kurt is thrown off by his professional demeanor and his heart sinks a little.

No. Kurt didn't get to him at all.

"What should I…" Kurt looks down at his hands where he holds the vibrator, cleaned and packed into a plastic Ziploc bag.

"You can keep it," Sebastian says quickly. "You know, because we don't recycle them or anything."

"Of course." Kurt doesn't want this moment to be awkward which is strange because he can't bring himself to look at the man standing in front of him. Not in his eyes, at least. But his shoes are quite lovely.

"Well, if I need anything else from you, I have your name and number on the release form," Sebastian says.

Kurt sees this as his moment to be bold, so he grabs it.

"My address is on that release form, too. Maybe you can stop by sometime," Kurt says, looking down at the book and the vibrator in his hands, his face hotter and redder than a Carolina Reaper, "and I can read to you again."

Sebastian is silent, and Kurt has no idea what's going on in his head, but whatever happened in that studio…that moment has long passed.

Kurt nods.

"Okay," he says, shoving the bag with the vibrator deep into an inside pocket of his coat so no one will see it while he takes the long subway ride home. "Well, good luck with your project." Kurt never looks up into Sebastian's face, just walks around him and out the door, sprinting down the street to the subway the moment the door clicks shut behind him.

* * *

Rachel is conspicuously absent when Kurt returns, and Kurt is glad. He no more wants to talk to her right now that he wants to shove his hand in a car door, though the car door would sting a lot less than her pestering. Kurt vows then and there to learn how to say the word 'no' to Rachel Berry and her stupid ideas.

His planned evening of silent self-pity comes to a crashing halt when he hears a knock on the door. Figuring Rachel forgot her keys again, he has half a mind to let her just sit out in the hallway, until a distinctive masculine voice calls through the crack.

"Kurt? Are you here? Do I have the right apartment?"

Kurt freezes, and for a moment he's not sure if he should just pretend that he's not at home, but he's also way too curious to know what would bring Sebastian Smythe all the way from uptown to his door in Bushwick at nine o'clock at night.

"Coming," he calls. He vaults across the apartment, stopping short to adjust his shirt and fix his hair before throwing open the door.

Sebastian stands leaning against the door jamb in a much more formal version of the struggling artist look he sported at the studio that afternoon. He's smirking, but with a much more contrite look in his eye.

"Sebastian?" Kurt asks, trying not to sound too excited to see him. "What…"

"I'm an idiot," Sebastian interrupts, but in a soft, self-depreciating way that Kurt can forgive. "I'm an imbecile. I shouldn't have just let you leave. I should have asked you out for coffee or something."

"Is that what you do with all of your volunteers?" Kurt asks, tilting his head, still curious as to why Sebastian is there.

"No," Sebastian admits, and the smirk becomes wider. "I think you know that I don't."

Kurt _did_ know. He had a couple of eye-opening hours after he got home. He finally went online and checked out the rest of Sebastian's videos. He could hear the vibrator when it switched gears, never going higher than medium. He saw how the men reacted. He knew that what happened with him in the studio was different. What Sebastian did to Kurt he didn't do with his other volunteers. At first, Kurt was angry. He was going to pull permission to show his video. He even thought about suing. But once his knee jerk anger died down, Kurt found himself hoping that somehow he'd hear from Sebastian again.

And here he was.

"I was kind of hoping I could make it up to you," Sebastian says, shifting a little on his feet, and Kurt can see that Sebastian has a rather large book and a plastic blister package with a brand new vibrator in his hands. "Maybe this time, I could read to you."

Kurt rolls his lips over his teeth, biting down to stop from blushing.

"Well, in that case," Kurt says, throwing the door open wide, "why don't you come in?"


End file.
